The word “opposite” has been wielded with remarkable versatility throughout literature, functioning both as a marker of spatial relations and as a symbol of contrast or contradiction. In many narratives, it locates characters or objects—for example, Jules Verne positions a passenger in a carriage “opposite” his master [1], while Katherine Mansfield situates someone on a bench “opposite” Stanley and Beryl [2]. Simultaneously, authors have used “opposite” to underscore inherent contrasts: Plato deconstructs the nature of justice by asking what is the “opposite” of a just man [3], and Nietzsche suggests that our very being is defined through striving toward our inherent “opposites” [4]. This dual usage—denoting both physical positioning (as seen in descriptions of houses [5], trees [6], and chairs [7]) and abstract, conceptual dichotomies (as in discussions of passions [8] or character traits [9])—demonstrates that “opposite” can be as concrete as a location or as fluid as an idea, enriching literary narrative by bridging tangible surroundings with conceptual depth.